


Especially When You're Like This

by Too_Punk_Rock_To_Function



Category: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco, Paramore, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lawyer!Dallon, Multi, Prostitute!Brendon, Strippers & Strip Clubs, eventual angst, i promise it's cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-31
Updated: 2017-04-14
Packaged: 2018-08-12 04:42:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7920982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Too_Punk_Rock_To_Function/pseuds/Too_Punk_Rock_To_Function
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What's your name?"<br/>"What do you want it to be?"<br/>Dallon blinked.</p><p>Or!</p><p>The AU where Brendon is a prostitute and Dallon is a poor college student who finds him behind some dumpsters.<br/>It's cute I swear.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Dallon was walking home from a long, long, long day at college.

_Out of all the fucking professions I could have picked, of course I picked lawyering._

He had been "defending" a hit-and-run victim, whose story was slightly shady, but that didn't matter because they won the case and Dallon and Patrick got paid and the shady fucker that did it had been charged with assault (specifically Reckless Wounding) and had been sentenced to five year good behaviour bond, a fine of up to $6000 (to pay for medical expenses and our services) and to top it all off a suspended driving license for up to a year.

And not only was it a long "case", but he had lost his wallet somewhere, which had his drivers license, credit card, fucking _everything he needed_.

So then he couldn't catch any of the public transport, because he knows exactly how much the fine would be ((roughly $150-$250 depending) the only thing being a law student helps with, knowing fines and how to avoid them) and he couldn't risk it.

After all, juggling college and a shitty job at a bar was a pretty difficult task and he needed all the money he could get.

Not to mention Patrick who worked with him at the bar, and was one of his only friends, would kick his ass.

Patrick may only be 5'3 to his 6'3, but when that boy is mad he is literally made out of pure rage when he wants to be and Dallon would rather not have to deal with that right now.

And also, on top of that it started raining.

And Dallon is actually too poor to be able to afford small luxuries like _umbrellas_.

He shook his hair, envying everyone walking about with an umbrella, before turning into a café and seeing his friend Pete.

Pete Wentz _was fucking insane._

He had zero chill, was always hyper and bounced around like a loon.

It probably didn't help that he practically owned the coffee shop that he worked part time in, that supplied tonnes upon tonnes of coffee, completely free for his access.

It's not like needed the extra shot of crazy.

"Fuck Dallon!"

He grinned lazily at Pete from where he was behind the counter, wiping his coffee stained hands on a tea-towel.

"Bad case?"

"No, actually, the case was pretty good. Got an extra "$1500" in my bank account, hopefully it'll last me till next case,"

His law class had this thing that with every win of a "case" they would get how ever much "money" into their "bank accounts". It was a bit of fun and taught them all how a real case would work, instead of just studying books and research. It rewarded those who really tried to win and gave the people who weren't bothering a real kick in the ass. Whoever had the most money by the end of the year, won a prize and a particularly good recommendation on their résumé.

Dallon was currently fifth in his class and hoped that with this win, it might boost him up a bit.

"Take this, on the house, you've earned it buddy,"

And Pete slid across a steaming hot coffee, which smelt deliciously like caramel and vanilla and Dallon had his mouth on the cup in seconds taking a burning gulp of it and sighing contentedly.

"Thanks. Man, today's been shitty hasn't it?"

"Definitely man, how come you're so wet?"

"Lost my wallet, couldn't catch the train so I had to walk, how has your day been shitty?"

Pete groaned over exaggeratedly.

"Okay, so you know the cute boy in my class right?"

Dallon nodded, sitting down on the corner of the counter, taking another sip of heaven before turning his attention back to Pete, who slid another coffee across the counter calling out a,

"Felicity?"

A woman came up and took it as Dallon joked,

"Benton?"

"Ew no, fuck Benton, and also, fuck you,"

Pete had dated Benton for about a week before the scum bag tried to make Pete have sex with him by blackmailing that he was gay. Pete laughed and told him that it would actually be really helpful if he outed him to their class because they have a _lot_ of cute boys that Pete wouldn't mind getting to know. Dallon couldn't help but feel anger toward Benton and his asshole-ish ways, but at least Pete didn't seem too shook about the whole ordeal.

Dallon laughed and spoke again,

"Mikey?"

Pete sighed happily and Dallon couldn't help but smile at his friends smitten state.

Mikey Way had turned up about six months ago in a skirt and glasses slipping down his face and lips that seemingly never smiled.

And for some reason Pete had latched onto him and had fallen hopelessly for the strange, but admittedly cute alternative boy, that alternated between obscenely short skirts and almost as obscenely tight skinny jeans.

"Well guess what?"

Dallon grinned behind his cup as Pete began making an iced coffee, placing the ice and milk into a blender and almost forgetting to add a squirt of coffee flavouring.

"What?"

"He turned up in a _ridiculously_ short skirt today, like we're talking _above_ mid thigh, almost level with his _butt_ length and a _motherfucking flower crown_ today,"

Dallon gasped mockingly,

"No,"

"Way! And! And, he had a book with him-Cooper?"

"Yup!"

A short man walked up and grabbed the drink before turning out the door with a ding.

"And that book was by fucking Irvine Welsh. I fucking love Irvine Welsh!"

"The only thing that would make this story better was if it was Ecstasy-"

"-Three Tales of Chemical Romance! It fucking was!"

Dallon's mouth fell open and all he said was,

"Marry him,"

Before taking a sip and listening to Pete's rambling once again, silently laughing about how bad his friend had it for the quiet outcast.

Dallon had met Mikey before at a college party (how neither of them could figure out _how_ they got to the frat party in the first place) and they were actually pretty good friends.

Mikey, despite his outspoken fashion sense was really quite shy and nervous. He had anxiety and had lived with depression for most of his life in Jersey, with his older brother Gerard (who Dallon had only seen once but remembered well because he had been wearing copious amounts of eyeliner, had bright red hair and incredibly tight jeans (must be a Way thing) and had been holding hands with a heavily tattooed short boy who looked at him as though he was the world itself) who had also lived through depression.

Mikey really loved music and Dallon had found out he played the bass in a band with his older brother, his brothers boyfriend and another friend of theirs called Ray. Once they started talking, they became pretty good friends and called each other regularly.

And whenever Dallon brought up how Mikey should talk to Pete, Mikey would just blush and tell him,

"Nah, I'm not cool enough to talk to Pete,"

Before changing the topic to one of his bands gigs and how Frank had almost killed Ray by swinging his guitar by the strap around his head.

"I wish,"

"Then just talk to him!"

"Ha! Ha Ha Ha! Oh, oh, you're funny, like I could do that! Have you seen him! He is fucking flawless. I'm even lucky to be in the same room as him for three hours every couple of days, like wow! I can't just talk to him! What would I even say!?"

Dallon turned around and saw the man of the minute himself opening the café door, another boy trailing behind him causing a laugh to erupt from his throat.

"Now might be your chance,"

"What the fuck do you mean by now might b-Mikey! Uh, umm, h-hi!"

Dallon just now recognises the boy trailing behind him to be Gerard's boyfriend Frank who looks up and grins at Dallon.

Dallon can't help but grin back and slide off the counter much to the hissed protests from Pete.

Mikey walks up to the counter, adjusting his skirt slightly and raising an eyebrow in annoyance at the group of elderly men in the corner who are glaring at him in disgust.

Pete adjusts his apron as Frank simply says while watching,

"So this must be Pete huh?"

"Yup, God, these two are so gone for each other, how have they not seen it?"

Frank giggles and reaches out to hug Dallon.

Dallon rolls his eyes, used to Franks seemingly endless affection for everyone and hugs the tiny man back.

Frank was only slightly taller than Patrick, but that wasn't exactly hard.

"How's Gerard?"

Frank rolled his eyes before going into a spiel about how his boyfriend needed to stop working so hard, because _he hadn't slept in like four days, because he says that if he stops writing this song he'll forget the words that keep coming to him and 'Frank it's going to be awesome'._

"-and I'm worried you know, he doesn't do this often and I'm scared he might relapse-Mikey's finally got to the front of the line, watch, watch!"

Dallon and Frank watched from their seats and listened intently.

"H-Hi Mikey, what can I get you?"

Pete asks with a blush, eyes focused intently on the younger boys hazel-green eyes. Mikey smiles slightly, which is really just a twitch of the lips but Frank almost squeals in excitement and exclaims something about, _my OTP are about to be canon, yes lord!_

"Um, one straight black coffee and-What did you what Frank?"

Frank shouts his order and Pete punches it in, before asking him if he wants a card. Mikey's lips twitch a little more, tugging on the flower crown and taking a card from Pete's hand.

He moves to the side and watches as Pete begins clumsily making the coffees.

"I um, I saw you reading Ecstasy, how-how do you find it. . . So far?"

"I've read it like a million times and each time it's as good as the last, have you read it?"

"That is my favourite book. I love it,"

"No way! It's my favourite book too, after Silence of the Lambs and To Kill A Mockingbird though,"

And then they got into a really intense conversation about how good How To Kill A Mockingbird is and Dallon could finally see why Pete was so good at English and how that helped with his poetry.

And Mikey was one of the only people Dallon had seen keep up with Pete's constant chatter, even if it was just a nod here or there and not actual words, (Mikey didn't talk much, it took him a while to think of something he felt worthy of saying) he was still listening intently.

That was until Pete's boss, who was rarely there, came and yelled at him.

Mikey blushed (barely a shade pinker on his cheeks) and mumbled out a sorry and Pete told him not to worry.

"Maybe we could continue this another time?"

Pete almost dropped the coffee he was handing over the counter and Dallon couldn't help but smirk.

"Uh-um, yeah sure, um, I'll just,"

He pulled the coffee back and scribbled on the side, the biggest blush covering his face.

Mikey grins down at the cup, (see: actual smile which is probably a full on grin) before leaning over the counter a bit and looking into his eyes.

Pete leans in a little too before Mikey takes his coffee and winks before turning around. I felt my eyebrows raise a fraction as Frank shrugs and shoots out the door.

"Oh, and Pete,"

Pete shook his head as Dallon moved to stand next to him.

"You should wear the eyeliner more,"

And then they were gone.

Pete slowly turned to look at Dallon. He opened his mouth and Dallon's gone,

"Here we go,"

And Pete talked for hours about that chat that went for two minutes, maybe three. He talked and talked, from everything and went deep into it, _because oh my god I shouldn't've put my number on the cup, what if he just wanted to talk in class, fuck I'm an idiot, I should have asked, now he probably thinks I'm some creepy old guy in his class that has a fetish for dudes in skirts and-_

His phone beeped and suddenly he whipped his phone out and squealed uselessly,

 **Unknown:** _Umm, hi Pete, this is Mikey, see you in class tomorrow :)_

 

And if Pete wore eyeliner the next day, who is Dallon to judge?


	2. Chapter 2

Dallon was walking home.

It was four in the morning, he had just made sure that Pete had gotten to his place safely, because he was absolutely plastered and Dallon didn't trust him to get back on his own.

He didn't even trust Pete to get back to his own place _sober_ , let alone so drunk he couldn't see straight.

And the only reason Pete was this drunk was because he had found out that Mikey in fact had a girlfriend.

Her name was Alicia and in Dallon's opinion Mikey deserved someone better.

Mikey was a quiet boy, yes, anyone could see that.

But when he was hanging out with friends, he was loud, his laugh uncontrolled, his make up perfect ( _perks of having a brother that majors in both art and make-up_ , Mikey had said) and wore what ever he wanted.

But when he was with this Alicia girl, he was even more reserved than he normally was around strangers.

He had been talking with Gerard and who had looked over at his brother before sighing angrily,

"I hate her. I _actually_ hate her. Look at her, Frank, Dallon, _look at her_. Look at how she treats Mikey. You know he was talking to me today. He'd just gotten this new dress yeah? His first ever dress and it was super cute too, like it was all lacy black on the chest and criss-crossed over his back in this really cool pattern, and it flowed out nicely near the bottom, and he was so excited about wearing it.

He'd also gotten some nice heels that I really wanna borrow, they are just super cute and would go really well with my new jacket-any way, he was gonna wear them tonight and I was so ready.

But of course, she turns up and tells him that he 'can't wear that, what are you some kinda fag or something? Only freaks wear dresses' blah, blah, blah. Who does she think she is!? Mikey looked so sad! He looked absolutely torn and when I came in to help him get ready he was wearing his jeans and that horrible t-shirt she had gotten him and was putting the dress back in the box! I'm so pissed!"

The thing was Mikey wasn't a girl. He wasn't exactly a boy.

The thing about Mikey was that he said he didn't see himself as a girl, but he liked dresses and make-up and typically "girly" things ( _And clothes don't have a gender anyway, it's whatever the person likes is what they should be able to wear,_ Mikey had said). But he wasn't really a boy, but he preferred male pronouns and sometimes he'd rather wear jeans and spike his hair up.

Mikey just didn't really want a gender, he didn't care if people saw him as a boy or a girl, he just identified more with the male side of things. He was just Mikey.

And he always referred to himself as "The Cute Boy With The Fabulous Taste In Skirts" and everyone had just accepted it, Gerard even going so far as to surprise him with gifts of skirts and spa days and make-up, as well as getting him new jeans and rad as fuck leather jackets.

And the only one who hadn't accepted it was his dumb girlfriend who put him down, mad him feel like shit and hide who he truly is.

And Dallon didn't think he would ever get over that and see what she might've had to offer if she wasn't such a dick.

And when Pete had discovered that this was who Mikey Way, the boy who in Petes eyes deserved to be treated like royalty, deserved to be treated with the upmost amount of respect and admiration, was dating someone who was constantly throwing insults at him, didn't appreciate him and honestly was just an asshole.

That and Pete said it was a crime to hide those legs away from the world.

Dallon shook his head at Pete's antics and had prepared himself for a night of listening to him rant about how Mikey should be with him, because he was just so much better then her, which clearly wasn't hard but also _because I can make him happy Dallon. He could be happy with me, and I'd let him wear whatever the fuck he wants, because he could wear a fucking bright purple condom stretched over his entire body and still look like a deity._

Dallon had laughed and told him that he should tell Mikey that to which Pete had blushed and swore profusely.

And then proceeded to throw up.

"Right, okay that's it, you're going home and I'm taking you. Let's go find Patrick and Tyler,"

Tyler was Pete's roommate and honestly, Dallon had no idea how they got the severely anxious introvert to even _think_ about going to a party, let alone _actually_ coming.

And after several minutes of trying to find them, Dallon walked Pete and Tyler home, quietly chatting with Tyler about movies and every so often grabbing the back of Pete's jacket and yanking him along.

"Thank you Dallon,"

Tyler had said quietly, shoving Pete roughly inside their dorm, with a smile. Dallon laughed as he heard Pete stumble over something and Tyler rolling his eyes,

"No problem, take care of yourself and try to get him to drink some water?"

"Yeah, sure!"

Tyler laughed before bidding him goodnight once again and closing the door after Dallon heard a loud,

"Since when do we have a fucking table?! How long have you known!?"

Dallon laughed again at the thought of his friends drunken antics and turned down another street.

He continued walking, before making a split decision to walk down a narrow alley, which would shave off about three minutes from his walk.

He was almost out the other side when he heard something fall and crash, before a car was speeding past him.

He looked to the way the car had come and noticed that that 'something' was actually a 'someone'.

And that someone was sitting propped up against the dumpster, head leaning against the graffiti covered object, arms wrapped around their waist.

Dallon tentatively walked toward the person, once again looking around to see if there was anyone else around.

As he got closer he could hear sniffling and choked breathing.

"Hi?"

The person jumped and turned around and Dallon was struck with how young and how pretty this person was.

His hair was shaved on the sides, left long and very messy, liked he'd ran his hands through it several times too many, on the top. He had a rather large forehead, with well groomed brows and what looked like a bruise beginning to blossom on his strong cheekbones. He had big lips coated in a light shade of lips stick and a small nose and pretty dark brown eyes, that were twinkling with tears. There were black puddles gleaming under his eyes and tear tracks mixed with what he assumed was eyeliner or mascara falling down his face.

He quickly wiped them away and put on a watery suave smile, but Dallon could see through it.

He up and that's when Dallon noticed his attire.

He was wearing very tight leather pants, with scruffed up dress shoes and a loose dress shirt, with the buttons undone. His collar was littered in bruises and what looked like blood and Dallon felt his eyes widened. In his hands he held a gold glittering jacket.

"What can I do for you?"

"Uh, nothing, nothing, it's just, are you. . . Okay?"

His eyes widened and he tilted his head at him with a confused look on his face. So then he looked down at his hands and fiddled with a button on his jacket.

"Uh, y-yeah, did. . . Did you want anything?"

Dallon was confused. Why did he keep asking him that?

"I'm sorry?"

"Like, did you want anything? One-fifty for every hour, ten dollars for every mark you make, sixty if you draw blood,"

He flicked some money in his hand, what roughly looked like four hundred dollars and suddenly Dallon realised what this boy was.

A prostitute.

"Wha-No! God no, I don't want you-wait no, that was rude, you seem like a nice prostitue-Wait! No, sorry, I'm just, I don't want that from you, I just, you look cold and your bleeding and that's a pretty bad bruise on your cheek and you're crying and-"

He took a deep breath as another tear rolled from the boys face, but he had a smile on his face, a real smile and Dallon just sighed before saying,

"My names Dallon,"

The boy grinned up at him, the black tear tracks dry on his face. He was an absolute mess and as Dallon continued to look at him he now realised that some of those bruises were hickeys and the blood on his collar bone and other places were from bites.

"What's your name?"

"Well, what do you want it to be?"

Dallon blinked.

"Please?"

He bit his lip and with a small smile responded with,

"Brendon, my name is Brendon,"

Dallon couldn't help the grin that made its way onto his face. _Brendon_. It suited him.

"Well Brendon, would you like to grab a coffee?"

Brendon looked up at him in surprise, his cheeks darkening in the terrible lighting before mumbling,

"Nah, you wouldn't want to be with me looking like this. . . Why would you wanna be with me like this? I wouldn't wanna be with me like this, I'm a mess,"

Dallon scoffed and held out a hand,

"Don't be ridiculous! You look amazing. And of course I want to go out with you like this, I wanna go out especially when you're like this,"

Brendon grinned at him, with tears in his eyes and reached up and clasped Dallon's.

"It's gonna cost you,"

Dallon raised an eyebrow. Pulling him up and noticing he was quite a bit smaller then him (not that that was hard, Dallon was a giant) and asking him,

"Pardon?"

"One-Fifty an hour hot-stuff,"

Dallon grinned,

"Deal,"


	3. Chapter 3

Dallon was walking.

But this time, he wasn't alone.

Beside him was a glittery, watery crying boy, who was stumbling around the streets with a slight limp hidden underneath a sexy walk.

"So Hot Stuff, what has you wondering the streets at night?"

"You know my names Dallon right?"

"Sure thing, but I like Hot Stuff better. And you didn't answer my question,"

Dallon tried not to blush every time Brendon would call him Hot Stuff. He wasn't going to lie to himself either. Brendon was a little bit cute.

Okay.

A _lot_ cute.

And it didn't help that his shirt was still open, exposing his hard chest and stomach, but Dallon was a gentleman and didn't stare. Instead keeping his eyes on Brendon's pretty black rimmed ones.

Even when he was like this, makeup smeared all over his face, he was still pretty.

He had tried to stop the tears from making their tracks, but had ended up with even more tracks and makeup smeared almost everywhere. His lipstick was stained his cheek, the bruise on his cheek beginning to turn purple.

"Well, I was coming home from a party, after dropping off my very drunk, heartbroken friend off at his house,"

"Oh, you don't have to be with me if you want to go home, I'm sure I'm fine,"

He said, twiddling with the buttons once again. He shivered, putting the gold jacket on and repeating the action.

"Nope, I promised you a coffee and a coffee is what you'll get,"

Brendon huffed and linked his arm through Dallon's before saying,

"Well Hot Stuff, if you don't wanna pay for this hour, we better get to it,"

And then he forced them to skip with a laugh and a startled Yelp from Dallon.

Dallon directed them down some streets, all the while skipping next to Brendon. Brendon was laughing and had even started to sing Follow The Yellow Brick Road as they went.

Dallon was slightly puffed as they made it to the little 24 hour café. It was called Vices & Virtues and was a very retro/steampunk like café, and it was a little weird and kinda Hipstery, but Dallon loved it.

And it was open at all hours, which was especially helpful to college students everywhere.

"I feel the weird sensation that I should slap you, like, for making a bad pun or something,"

"Weird, I feel like I just made a bad pun too, I didn't even say anything though,"

"Weird,"

And then they looked at each other, before bursting out laughing and tumbling through the doors.

Behind he counter stood Dallon's favourite barista (who also happened to be in Tyler's basketball team and the same English lit class as Pete) Spencer, who had all night classes, so he took this shift regularly.

The small coffee shop had a couple of other students, some Dallon recognised, like Andy Biersack and Austin Carlile sitting near one of the open windows, cigarette on Andy's lips, smoke trailing out the window.

In the other corner is a student that probably passed out ages ago, head resting on the desk.

On a table by the right is, Dallon is pretty sure their names are Vic and Jaime, holding hand with sleepy smiles on their faces as they swirled their drinks.

"Dallon! Who's th-"

He stuttered as he took in Brendon's appearance.

Brendon ran a hand through his hair, before extending it toward Spencer before giving him an award winning grin,

"Hey Sweety, how do you know my friend Dallon?"

Dallon couldn't talk. For some reason his voice had closed up and he watched the two boys interact. Spencer looked taken aback, but then continued with a confused smile directed at Dallon and saying,

"I'm a friend of a friends. That and Dallon hardly ever sleeps, he's in here more times than I am, and I work here,"

Brendon turned to stare at Dallon who blushed under his gaze and started to shuffle his feet.

"Well, I'm Brendon, it's nice to meet you Spencer,"

"Nice to meet you too, what can I get for you?"

"Hmm, can I get a caramel frappe, with whipped cream and extra caramel? Large?"

Spencer dutifully wrote it down, as well as writing Dallon's usual order down too.

With a nod and a quick,

"Why don't you guys take a seat?"

Spencer started making their drinks.

Dallon looked around and gestured for Brendon to pick a place to sit, which he did, next to a window in the corner.

He stared outside with a wistful expression, playing with the table number casually. Dallon couldn't help but smile as Brendon waved enthusiastically.

"Dallon,"

Dallon turned to Spencer, eyebrow raised. Spencer sighed and gestured for him to come closer.

"I never thought you'd hire a hooker. Thought you were above that?"

Spencer said, no judgement in his tone, simply just him making an observation, but Dallon couldn't help but take it to heart.

"I wouldn't! I saw someone throw him out on the street and offered to buy him a coffee,"

Spencer just raised an eyebrow and spoke quietly,

"Well, I've heard a fair bit about him. He'll do anything for some cash, doesn't matter what it is, just know that he probably is not here to just be your friend,"

Dallon stared at him and narrowed his eyes.

"And how would you know all this Spencer? Taken his services? He is a person, not just some sex toy,"

"I know that! And I have not taken his services! His boyfriend is a drug dealer on campus, mainly weed, but well known and very terrifying. He keeps Brendon on a leash. After all, someone's gotta pay for his drug addicted ass,"

Dallon looked back at Brendon, who was now chatting animatedly to Andy and Austin from across the room, the two men very amused and smiling friendly at him.

"I'm just saying, not to be careful around him, but I heard that if he doesn't make enough money, his boyfriend will hurt him. And maybe you, if he finds you,"

Dallon felt a shiver run down his spine and wondered who Brendon could possibly be dating and if any of this Hickeys or bruises were from his boyfriend.

He also could feel his heart sink, but blamed that on his tiredness and coming off his alcohol high.

He grabbed the coffees with a wink from Spencer, walks back to Brendon, suddenly worried for his new friends health.

"No, but you should have seen it guys. That was one of the wildest parties I have ever seen! I made a grand that night! One thousand dollars! Just from like, some hand jobs here and there! I did like four hand jobs and I got one thousand dollars! Drunk, desperate college students are the easiest to make money off, I tell ya,"

Andy nodded his head, taking a drag from his cigarette and a laugh falling from Austin's lips.

"You know these guys Brendon?"

"Oh yeah! We go way back! Andy and I used to go to high school together, till I dropped out and Austin used to room with Bade,"

"I can't believe you're still dating him Bren, he's a fucking nightmare,"

Austin said with a shake of his head, coughing before punching Andy as he blew some smoke into his face. Andy grinned before putting his butt out in the ash tray, pulling another from his leather jackets pocket.

"Yeah Bren, I know he seemed prefect two years ago, but you gotta get out, he's really not good,"

Brendon just smiled tightly and rolled his eyes,

"Whatever guys, I'll see you on Thursday at the club yeah?"

They nodded solemnly, Andy lighting up his next and blowing out a ring.

"Well, we'll let you get back to your date,"

"He's cute,"

Andy added with a wink of his black rimmed blue eyes. Dallon felt a blush appear on his face, because, well, Andy Biersack, one of the most aesthetically pleasing people on campus, just called boring old _Dallon_ cute. And meant it! Brendon stuck his tongue out at him before turning to Dallon with a shy grin. He put out his hand and made a grabby gesture like a baby.

Dallon rolled his eyes, giving it to him and sitting down, trying to get his long legs under the tiny tables. Brendon laughed at him before shutting up with a smile as Dallon glared.

"So Hot Stuff, what are you going to college for?"

"Law,"

"Ooo, how fancy, smart and cute, what more could you want?"

Dallon couldn't help the blush that appeared on his cheeks. He coughed awkwardly before asking,

"What about you? Doing any college?"

_Doing any college. Doing. Any. College. What the fuck Dallon, you should have stayed home, God, how do you even have friends?_

"No, not doing any college, I dropped out of high school, but, apart from this job-"

He gestured to himself and Dallon fought off the frown for a smile, hopefully it was something less dangerous,

"I work at the club near Starbucks on Thursdays and Fridays, that where Austin and Andy work, Austin works bar, Andy is a bouncer, which is ridiculous, cause he's a fucking twig,"

Dallon laughed then nodded and proceeded to ask what he did there,

"Oh, I have some stripper friends who like to bring me in to sing for their 'Girls Only' night. Sometimes I'll do a bachelorette party,"

Dallon felt his eyes widen as he imagined Brendon singing, surrounded by a bunch of attractive half naked girls and something about that made his mouth go dry. So when he took a sip of his coffee and almost choked he just responded with an,

"Oh,"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is this any good?
> 
> I feel like it's not. . .
> 
> Next chapter is Pete being a dick.
> 
> Hope you're ready
> 
> ;)


	4. Chapter 4

Dallon was walking, Brendon running across the road telling him, _look at the pretty lights Hot Stuff_ and Pete drunkenly talking to him through the phone.

"Daaaaaaallllon, what up my dude,"

"Pete, shouldn't you be asleep,"

"Pffft, maybe,"

He slurred and Dallon couldn't help but roll his eyes. Brendon was watching him with an amused look on his face, obviously hearing Pete's drunken slurring on the other end of the phone.

"Shouldn't you be asleep?"

Dallon sighed. Honestly, Pete was a six year old in a twenty two year old body.

"Maybe Pete, but I thought Tyler was watching you?"

"I don't need a baby sitter, you need a baby sitter,"

Dallon rolled his eyes. Brendon cracked a grin, Dallon suddenly getting lost in the blinding smile he produced. _Stop. He's got a boyfriend. A shitty one, but one at sounds like he could kill you in a heart bea_ t.

He was brought back to the phone by Pete screaming at Tyler,

"I don't need a baby sitter do I Ty?! You wouldn't get me a baby sitter would you?!"

Dallon heard an exaggerated sigh on the other end before some muffled yelling back.

"Whatever. Where are ya Dallon, I miss you,"

"I miss you too Pete, go to sleep,"

"You're no fun,"

"Is he you're boyfriend?"

Brendon asked, swirling his straw in his slushy. He took a sip and Dallon tired not to think of those lips wrapped around something else- _Bad Dallon_.

"Nope, he's the reason I'm out here actually. Found out his crush has a girlfriend,"

Brendon winced sympathetically.

"Hey! Who's that?! You get yourself a boyfriend Dall? Hey Tyler! Dallon's got a boy-"

"-Shut _up_ Pete-"

"Dallon has a boyfriend?"

Came Tyler's voice through the phone and Dallon honestly tried his best not to slam his head, or his phone on the table in frustration.

"Guys, please, Tyler get him to bed,"

"No way, tell us about this boyfriend,"

He glanced over at Brendon who was pressed up against a store window, staring at the fairy lights glittering in the window. He couldn't help but smile at Brendon's dreamy face. He looked around again, before seeing something across the road and running toward it, almost abandoning his slushy completely.

"He's not my boyfriend, I met him on the street and invited him for a coffee, he's got a boyfriend,"

He heard a distant booing from Pete and rolled his eyes. God, the amount of times he'd rolled his eyes in this conversation would have to be a new record.

"That's no fun. We want pictures of him, pics or it didn't happen,"

Came Pete's rely from somewhere in their apartment. Dallon refrained from rolling his eyes as Tyler asked,

"Is he cute? What's he like?"

Dallon smiled softly as Brendon raced up to another store front, admiring the tattoo art in the window.

"He's very cute. In both looks and personality. Like, at the moment, he's running from store window to store window looking in each with this look of wonder. He's very hyper, probably didn't help with the coffee I gave him, but he was energetic before that too,"

"What's he look like?"

Tyler asked softly, it sounded like he was smiling through the phone. He could hear Pete clambering around their apartment, probably listening too. Dallon spoke softly as Brendon turned and beckoned him to come closer,

"He's about a foot smaller then me, brown hair, his forehead is kinda big, but he had lots of fluffy hair, brown eyes, big lips, very sweet, very smiley, I don't know, but I've got to go before he hears me talking with you,"

"Dallon, are you gonna f-"

"-Goodnight Pete,"

And with that he hung up.

"So you're friends wanted pictures?"

Brendon asks as he points to a tattoo of a skull, surrounded by roses. Dallon nods, blush creeping up his neck as he tries to will it to go away. _His friends were the worst._

"Yeah, but you don't have to,"

"I will, only because I want your friends to be jealous that you got to meet me,"

He said with a wink. Dallon blinked and pulled out his phone. They had begun walking, Brendon taking another slurp of his slushy, walking _very_ close to Dallon and watching him enter camera.

He took it and held it up high, putting his slushy next to his face and closing both his eyes. He moved the camera down and put the straw in his mouth, eyes wide. He took another one with a confused look on his face. He took another one pulling the classic over exaggerated duck face and a peace sign.

Dallon grinned at the last one, huffing out a laugh as Brendon gave him a look mid selfie.

"Get over here Hot Stuff, or they might just think you stole these from someone's Insta,"

Dallon wrapped an arm around his shoulder, leaning down to Brendon's level and pulling a smile. He took a few like that before Brendon sighed in exasperation.

"Come on, have some range!"

Dallon moved behind him, wrapping his arms around Brendon from behind and resting his chin in his head, poking out his tongue. Then moved his head to his shoulder. Then Brendon moved around him, hands on his shoulders.

"Up,"

"What?"

"Up!"

Dallon bent his legs as Brendon clambered on. With an arm wrapped around his neck, the other outstretched they took a few, some silly, some looking at each other, some normal.

Brendon took some more of himself, before turning back to Dallon.

And suddenly Brendon's lips were kissing his cheek, the phone clicking away.

"What was that for?"

"Thank you. . . For tonig-this morning? It was really kind of you and I'd like to say thank you. But I have to go now. Gotta be back before six, or he'll get shitty,"

Brendon handed his phone back and pulled Dallon in for the hug, which might have been awkward and maybe it was, but Dallon loved it, even if he was bent at a weird angle, his head resting on Brendon's shoulder.

Dallon pulled out his wallet, but Brendon put a hand on it, pushing it back toward him.

"You know I was kidding right Hot Stuff?"

"Yeah but you could've been uh, making money, but you came with little old lonely me, so please, just at least take this?"

He pulled out a hundred dollar bill and offered it. Brendon bit his lip and smiled, before taking it with a sigh.

"Thank you,"

He said softly, before sashaying down the sidewalk, hips swishing and jacket glittering. Dallon stood there a while longer, watching him go and wondered if he'd ever see Brendon again.

Brendon stopped just before the corner and turned back. Dallon waved and Brendon smiled, before blowing a kiss and turning down the street.

Dallon sighed, and started heading back to his apartment, a permanent grin on his face.

**[][][][][][][]**

"I need the strongest of whatever you've got Pete,"

"Shh, not so loud,"

"Pete, I whispered it,"

"Shhhhhh,"

Dallon held his hands up in surrender and Pete begins to make the coffee, wincing at the whirring of the coffee machine.

"So-"

"-Oh no, here we go-"

"-When do we get to meet lover boy?"

"Hopefully again?"

Dallon sighed. Pete gave him a look as he dropped himself over the counter.

"What do you mean ' _Hopefully again_ '? Didn't you get his number?"

Dallon groaned and that was answer enough for Pete.

"You fucking idiot, is he a student?"

"Not really,"

Pete slid the coffee to him and Dallon looked at he tiny cup. It was about a mouthful and looked blacker than a panther. He raised a brow and Pete just did the universal symbol for shots.

Dallon moved it to his lips and downed the whole thing, throat scorching and mouth burning with the over excessive strength of the coffee.

"Jesus fucking Christ,"

"Language,"

Patrick said from his place at one of the puffy mismatched chairs. Pete rolled his eyes and Dallon shot Patrick the finger who just sighed.

"That's should wake you up,"

"Jesus, how do people drink these,"

"Honestly, I have no idea. But I saw kid take five of these like straight line bar shots, I swear to god he was going to die from caffeine intake, it was wild,"

Dallon shook his head and fought off the shudder at the thought.

"So you didn't answer my question,"

"You didn't ask me one,"

Pete called out a for a 'Susan'. Dallon watched as your typical white suburban soccer mum walked up, a distasteful glare at Dallon sitting on the counter and Pete's obvious eyeliner and nail polish, before taking her seven coffees and storming out, not even leaving a tip.

"Name? Age? Job? Personality? Eye colour? Height? Favourite food?"

Dallon blinked, used to Pete's overbearing questions about anyone he's met before in his life.

"His name is Brendon, I'm pretty sure he's younger then me. Umm, I don't know what he does, but he's not a student, he said he dropped out of Highschool-"

"-Ooh, risky-"

"-I know. Umm, he's like, really energetic and bouncy. He gets easily distracted, especially by shiny things and tattoos. Umm, he's just got a cute personality, I don't know. Outgoing, a bit eccentric. Brown eyes. Hmm, roughly a foot shorter then me and I think he said he loves sandwiches,"

Pete had a look of contemplation on his face.

"Pics?"

Dallon reluctantly pulled out his phone, flicking to the very first one he took, the one with the slushy, and tried not to smile.

Pete took the phone and started flicking through it, eyebrows raised and a small smile on his face a she got to the one with Brendon kissing his cheek, the final one.

"Single?"

He said with a waggle of his eyebrows. Dallon flopped back down with am exaggerated moan and Pete winced.

"Dude, you've got it bad, don't you?"

Dallon groaned again.

"But he is pretty cute,"

Dallon groaned again.

"He's perfect height, good teeth, seems really nice, why don't you ask him out anyway?"

"Boyfriend? How many times do I have to tell you?"

Dallon pointed out.

"Yeah, but you said his relationship with his boyfriend sucks, and not even in the literal sense,"

Dallon groaned, throwing an arm over his eyes.

"Samantha?"

"It's not my fault you've got a ridiculously big head Sam,"

"Shut up,"

"No seriously, this needs to be addressed, like, how much shampoo do you go through daily? Because you'd need at least _one_ bottle to do _one_ wash, but your hair is greasy as fuck-is he okay?"

Dallon groaned again, banging his head against the counter as Pete laughed and stated,

"Boy troubles,"

The two friends made noises of sympathy before resuming their conversation.

"Do you have to tell everyone?"

"Yes, in fact, hey Patrick?"

Dallon started whining.

"Yes Pete?"

"Or little Dallon here is having some boy trouble and needs our collective experience to figure out his problems,"

"Please stop,"

"Oh, I see, is that so, what are these boy troubles Pete?"

"Well, our little Dallon really just wants to suck Brendon's di-"

"-Oh my _god!_ Can we not!-"

"-ck. But he just doesn't know how to go about asking him. Like does he just go straight up to him and be like, "Hey Brendon-"

"-Please, for the _sanctity_ of the children, could you stop?-"

"-You've got big hands, and you know what they say about big hands, is that you've got big feet. And you know what they say about big feet. Big feet equals a big dick. It must be hard carrying it around everywhere-"

"-Why, _why_ are you doing this?-"

"-Need some help carrying it? I can offer my mouth if you need it?' Would that be how you do it Patrick?"

"Hmm, can't say that's how I'd do it, personally,"

Dallon groaned and rolled around the counter, looking at two mortified priests.

"Here you go sirs, don't mind us, just offering some friendly advice to our friend Dallon here,"

He said, slapping a hand on Dallon's stomach.

The priests simultaneously signed the cross before taking their coffees, one of them even going as far as to say,

"You need Jesus son,"

And patting his head. Dallon wanted to _kill_ Pete right now.

"Hmm, I'd have to say the classic poem approach. What was that one form Tumblr? Roses are red. Violets are blue. My beds big. Guess what else is too?"

"Oh my god,"

"Oh Dallon, stop being such a bad sport. It's all in jest. It's a joke, don't take it so hard. Unless it's a dick. Wait, are you a Bottom?"

"This is my cue to leave,"

"Boo! Dallon, do you want him to do other things with his dick? Do you want to take him!?"

Dallon's face was as red as a tomato and he wanted nothing more then to murder both Pete and Patrick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pete is such a dick.
> 
> Get it.
> 
> I'm sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> But actually.  
> I'm not.  
> :)


	5. Dun, dun, dun-dun-dun, dun-Dun-dun-Dun, dundundundun-dun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Are you going to continue this?"
> 
> "This is so good! Are you gonna update?????"
> 
> "UPDATE"
> 
> "GTE OFF UR ASS YOU LAZY PJECE OF GARABAGE"
> 
> ...
> 
>  
> 
> I understand that my terrible updating schedule is exactly that, terrible.
> 
> I have no excuses.
> 
> So here is an unedited version of this chapter that I will fix when I get home.
> 
> Also, saw twenty one pilots the other day.
> 
> Don't talk to me, I'm emotional.  
> It seems after emotional things my writers block seems to *poof*
> 
> They sung Cancer and during it I realised "Hey, you're never gonna hear this song performed live ever again lol."
> 
> ......

Dallon was walking at night again.

And he definitely wasn't looking for a certain sparkly man in tight leather pants.

He was slowly losing hope and ignoring Tyler's pitying looks. 

He only has a few photos proof, that he's beginning to think he was drunk on photoshop and made.

But not even he could make up someone so cute.

Dallon decided that this was the last night he'd actively look for Brendon (or that's what he tells himself and will continue to tell himself anyway).

He was trudging his way back toward campus, passing nightclubs and bars overflowing with people. Winding his way through shrieking practically naked women and bearded, slightly too old men to be hanging around the young women.

He saw a Starbucks in the distance. It's no Vices, but it'll have to do. He goes to duck in when he suddenly sees a flashing sign in the corner of his eyes. 

It was a blue sign, advertising coffee. It was a quaint little place, that looked straight out of a movie from the early nineteen hundreds.

Dallon wandered in, suddenly intrigued and noticed no one at all. Not a single customer.

But there was a man scrubbing down an already pristine bench.

"Where is everyone?"

Dallon asked as the man looks up. He raises an eyebrow, then nods like the two have some kind of secret in common. He crooks a finger, beckoning Dallon to follow him behind the counter into the back room. Dallon feels unease settle his insides, but follows anyway.

They head through a door, down some creaking wrought iron stairs, to a cellar door.

It was metal, with blacked out windows either side and intricate art swirling the door that reminded Dallon of a Moulin Rogue.

Through the musty air, there were old decorative lightbulbs around the door and a swirling red sign lit in a cursive font. A Fever You Can't Sweat Out.

Out the front was Andy Biersack, dressed in a sharp black dress shirt, pants and shoes, white suspenders hanging at his waist, lips curled around a cigar. He had a gold mask obscuring his face, blue eyes covered in smokey eyeliner beneath.

Dallon practically ran in his half awake state.

"Andy! Andy hey!"

He looked up smiling around his cigar before taking a puff and blowing a soft ring. Dallon watched it wisp its way into the already smokey air.

"Hello Doll. What can I do for ya?"

"Can I come in? Is Brendon in? I'll pay however much-"

"-Slow down hot shot! Brendon isn't here. Ya can't come in, not dressed like that. Ya haven't heard about this place?"

Dallon shook his head, about to ask why when Andy chuckled softly and ruffled his black hair.

"Your fanciest attire, a mask to obscure your identity to so your partner won't find out-" Andy winked at those words and Dallon tried not to blush, "-and you're in for the show of your life."

Dallon shook his head and stared at the outside again. Now that he was closer he noticed that the windows weren't blacked out, they were covered in a thick, black, ruffled, velvet curtain.

"It's like a Cabaret show. A little bit like burlesque, with a lot more stripping. You get to be in the nineteen twenties, but with less war and more equality."

"So I can't go in?"

Andy nodded taking another drag eloquently.

"Unless I'm dressed properly with a mask?"

"Correct."

"And when will Brendon be in?"

Andy raised his lips in a smirk.

"Tomorrow, if you can rent a suit by then?"

"I'm a practicing lawyer, half of my classes require a suit."

Andy grinned and bowed. An over exaggerated Brooklyn accent drawled.

"I'll see ya tomorrow then Doll?"

"That you will."

Dallon started jogging up the stairs.

"And Dallon!" 

Andy called after him. He turned to look into Andy's slightly intimidating form, looming in the decorative globes.

"Brush up on some twenties slang, would ya?"

~~

"Come on Pete, please?"

"Only if Patrick goes."

"Trick?"

"Give me a second."

Dallon groaned and dramatically flopped on Pete and Tyler's couch, long legs hanging off the end. Pete sat on the arm of his run down sofa, nursing a cup of coffee. Patrick was sprawled out on the floor, laptop at the ready, playing Friv. Tyler was in the kitchen, grumbling to his mum on the phone.

"Come on, its for one night. You guys aren't going to miss anything, you don't even have to drink! Just come for moral support-"

"-The only concerning part of your reasoning was that we wouldn't drink. Why wouldn't we drink, Mr Weekes?"

Dallon flailed on the couch as Tyler wandered in.

"-Yes mom, obviously. . . No! Ugh-just let me, you know what, I have to go. Ye-Yes mum I do. . . Yeah, yeah, yeah. Yes, I called to say happy birthday. I told you, I barely have room in my dorm for Pete let alone Zack too! I have to go, bye Mom. Bye, bye, byebyebye-"

Tyler then proceeded to flop on top of Patrick, who just grunted in return.

"Tyler, can you come?"

"Come where?"

"To a strip club-" Dallon was quick to cut in, "To a Cabaret show. It'll be fun, please?"

Tyler seemed to think as Patrick tapped away on the keyboard, still writing an essay, even with Tyler's added weight.

"Yeah sure, why not."

Pete spat out his coffee, it dribbled from his nose as he incredulously asked,

"What?!"

"Why not? My friends and I used to go twice a year. Cabaret is a show. It's not stripping. Well, there's a little bit of stripping, but mainly for entertainment, or to do or show something funny. Depending on what kind of show, it tells a story, either through song and dance, narration or comedy. I'm stressed and I want to listen and watch a theatrical story. If you can get me a suit Dallon, I'll come for sure."

Everyone was silent at that. Tyler was humming quietly and Pete seemed to be thinking when Patrick suddenly sat up. Tyler smacked the carpet with a whack, holding his nose and groaning.

"I'll go."

Pete almost spat his coffee out again.

"I did a bit of research on the club. It's designed like a strip club from the nineteen twenties, you know, during the prohibition era of America? The bar is hidden, so it can serve alcohol, the coffee shop serving as a distraction.

"They do everything historically accurate. From the old coffee shop disguise to the tablecloths in the basement. The performers are dressed in actual performance stuff from the twenties and it's surprisingly funded by a load of colleges as a 'Historic Reenactment Centre'.

"It's actually really freaking cool. They serve alcohol in tea cups and have a jazz band to perform and you can even smoke in there. Sometimes some actors dressed as police officers come and drag them out and pretend to arrest them."

Everyone was silent and Tyler mumbled,

"No wonder you're a history major-"

"-Nerd."

Patrick grumbled and pulled Tyler to look at his laptop to look at some suits.

"Pete?"

Pete rolled his eyes, downing the rest of the burning black liquid and sighed.

"Fine."


End file.
